


One Hour, One Hour, Kiss Me

by greeling



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M, also first fic be kind 2 me, basically i gave the despair disease to hajime, i spent a month writing this for someone im :flushed emoji: for so, sorry if its ooc i dont care, there is no comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 20:34:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17148653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greeling/pseuds/greeling
Summary: Another trial finished, another Monobeast defeated, a new location, a new motive. The only difference is Hajimes' caught up in it more unwillingly than usual.





	One Hour, One Hour, Kiss Me

**Author's Note:**

> i just noticed most of this is just walls of text, sorry! also i read this on call and my friends told me how gay it was so have fun!

The aftermath of Pekoyama’s trial was hell.

Though only Kuzuryuu, Mioda and Hajime had truly caught the despair disease, a sickness ran rampant amongst the remaining survivors. Few students hadn’t come down with something, whether it be a cough or a cold, and due to this, the hospital became a second home to most. Tsumiki worked valiantly to cure everyone’s illnesses, but even her ultimate abilities had its limits, though they were often pushed past. She often opted for the help of those who weren’t sick, or those who were strong enough to function normally, sending them to care for the ill when she needed a moment to rest. Her breaks were scarce and brief, though, due to the constant tending to those with the despair disease needed. Though some of the symptoms varied across those affected, there were two constants across the board. With despair came delirium and a weakened immune system, which required around-the-clock treatment, lest they hurt others or themselves, or succumb to their high fevers. Even then, Tsumiki could only do so much; she only had so much time, and she simply couldn’t spend any of it finding a proper cure for the despair disease when so many other people needed tending to.

It truly was a hell, grueling in every way, shape, and form.

 

Hajime’s vision was hazy. Consciousness drifted back to him slowly, and then threatened to slip away, just as it’d been doing to him for the past few hours. Or... had it been days? He blinked a few times in an attempt to shake off the weariness of feverish sleep. Slowly, his eyes began to focus, and he found he was staring at the patterned ceiling of a hospital.

_‘Oh yeah... I’m still in the hospital.’_ He thought absentmindedly, and awkwardly pulled himself into a sitting position. Nothing seemed out of the norm as he scanned the area around him, save for the now wilting flowers on his bedside table. _‘Those weren’t there before… who sent them? And when did they find the time to? Didn’t Tsumiki say pretty much everyone was sick?’_ His mind wandered, and reality became an unfocused blur once more. Only when he heard voices did he come to once again; he turned towards their source to find Tsumiki standing in the doorframe leading to his room. Her back was turned to him, obviously absorbed in conversation that was out of earshot for him. Hajime made an attempt to listen in, but only found himself shocked at just how _tired_ Tsumiki looked. Disheveled clothes and unruly, knotted hair meshed to create a look of many sleepless nights, and Hajime couldn’t help but find pity for her through his indistinct thoughts. Though, he didn’t linger on said pity for long, as his mind shifted from the fatigued nurse to the person she was talking to. They weren’t visible from his bed, nor could Hajime make out their words exactly, but their gruff tone was familiar… very, very familiar. The voice was definitely one boys, but it wasn’t one he could pin down for certain in such an unwell state. He resorted to cycling through the memories of his surviving friends to determine the other’s identity. _‘It can’t be_ _Tanaka, or Souda, and it definitely couldn’t be Kuzuryuu ‘cause he’s sick too… It could be Nidai, but isn’t he usually louder than that? But... doesn’t that leave only one person?’_ The only other person…?

And suddenly it clicked. The other voice belonged to _Komaeda_.

Hajime groaned at the realization. It wasn’t that he disliked Komaeda, no, not at all. In fact, that was the complete opposite of the truth. Komaeda sparked something special within Hajime when he saw him, something that was almost impossible to place. Every time Komaeda smiled he felt like time stopped to stand for him, and his laugh was like a harmonious spell, casting him into an awe that brightened the world. Hajime figured it was him valuing Komaeda as a good friend, or at least a close acquaintance, but even then, he couldn’t be a hundred percent sure. Truly, Hajime wanted to greet Komaeda with a smile, but dizzying waves of remorse left his mouth dry and vocal chords functionless. Memories of their last encounter held him still, forcing their way into his disoriented mind and replaying the scenes of something he hadn’t yet had to chance to take back.

Hajime remembered what had happened perfectly.

 

Warm tones illuminated messy white curls and sickly, pale skin, and it caught Hajime’s eyes more than the scenery ever could. Not too long ago, Komaeda had dragged him off to the beach so they could watch the sun set, and though Hajime was thoroughly annoyed by this at the time, he’d still gone along with it. Komaeda was strange in those ways, but Hajime figured his spontaneous actions were just him trying to find some semblance of normalcy after witnessing four of their friend’s brutal murders. Neither had said a word to the other since they’d arrived, mainly due to Komaeda being too distracted to talk, but the silence between them was comfortable, the kind you could sit in for hours and never feel bothersome in. Now that they were alone, he preoccupied himself with eyeing Komaeda over carefully, seeing this as the only opportunity to do so without it being overtly awkward. And now that Hajime really had the chance, he began noticing things before that he hadn’t ever truly taken note of. For instance, before this point, he had brushed off the way his jacket and shirt seemed to pool around him as them simply being oversized garments, but now, Hajime could see its was Komaeda, who was almost comically thin. There was barely any muscle on his arms and legs, and it almost surprised him he could operate normally with such frail looking limbs. It made some part of Hajime worried that if he touched him, he’d break his bones or some crazy thing like that, and it’d be all his fault. However, his fragile form made him more beautiful, appealing in the same way a porcelain doll was, Hajime thought. Slender digits that could easily slot with another’s, pallid skin that bruised and flushed easily, and lips that, though chapped, looked perfectly kissable… they lit pleasant fires underneath Hajime’s skin, and he idly scratched his wrist to numb the feeling. Impulsively, he inched his hand towards the other’s, risking reality for fantastical urges he didn’t think he could settle on his ow- “Hinata-kun, I feel like the luckiest man alive when I get to spend time with you.” Komaeda’s words both caught him off guard and snapped him back to the real world. He took a brief moment to blink away any remaining desires before looking quizzically at him.

“What makes you say that?”

“Oh, well... ah, I was just thinking how great it is to be in... the presence of someone so talented. It’s just an honor for someone as _worthless_ as me, y’know?” Komaeda seemed to carefully dance around his word choice, which made it seem almost as if he didn’t want to say what was really on his mind. Normally, Hajime would question this, but the outlier, _worthless_ , made Hajime recoil. It made him feel like he’d been spit at; the word was so jarring in comparison to his gentle, nonchalant tone, and hearing the words fall from the same lips he’d just been thinking about made it worse, somehow.

“Why do you always say that about yourself?”

“What do you mean?” His head tilted like a puppies’, and he wasn’t sure to take that as mocking or not. Hajime searched Komaeda’s eyes for insincerity, but all he found was genuine questioning, and he frowned. Komaeda really was that unaware, and it made him feel some kind of terrible. He really thought that way about himself? Some part of him had hoped it was all an act to confuse and worry him and the others, but it seemed that wasn’t true…

_‘Why does he have to be so difficult all the time?’_ A disheartened sigh escaped Hajime before he replied. “I mean, you call yourself stuff like ‘worthless’ and ‘useless’ all the time. Why do you do that?”

“But it’s true, isn’t it? Compared to an Ultimate like you or the others, I’m far less valuable. My talent isn’t anything but luck.” The self-depreciation made Hajime flinch again.

“That’s just... not true though. You’re worth just as much as any of us are, Komaeda.”

“It is true though… unlike you all, I’m barely a fraction of your importance to this world. I’m just a tool you can use to grow.”

“Stop it, Komaeda. You mean just as much as anyone here does.”

“But Hinata-kun, it’s th-”

“Komaeda, if you keep saying bad things about yourself no one will want to be around you. Sometimes…. sometimes, it’s hard to be around you because you’re always so negative, Komaeda.” The words had come out of his mouth before Hajime had really known what he was saying. There was a beat, a moment for Komaeda to stare bewildered at Hajime, a moment for the dots to connect in his mind. A hand slapped itself on Hajime’s mouth, to prevent him from saying anything more. It wasn’t like he could take back what he’d already said though, so it was a futile move that only prolonged his apology.

When Hajime finally removed the hand from his mouth and eyed Komaeda, he was aloof, idling with his thumbs and no longer facing him. Hesitantly, he reached a hand out in an attempt to reassure Komaeda somehow, but faltered when he suddenly spoke. “I… I, um, see…” Not sure what to say, Hajime put his arm down and opted to apologize later, when the atmosphere wasn’t as tense.

Night fell in complete silence as they sat and watched.

 

He buried his face in his hands, and wished he could just disappear, or die, or something that made it so he never had to talk to Komaeda ever again. Means of escape came to mind, and he was halfway tempted to try them so long as they meant he wouldn’t have to face his troubles head on. Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance, as Tsumiki had finally took notice of his awakening. “Oh, look! He’s awake, Komaeda-san! That’s just how your luck would have it, hm?” Her tone was cheerful, but her voice cracked when put under emphasis. If the circumstances were different, he would’ve thanked her for her hard work, and apologized for the trouble he’d caused, even despite being horrifically sick. However, his voice didn’t seem to come, and he could only desperately avoid Komaeda’s figure with his eyes. He absolutely _refused_ to lay his eyes upon his messy hair, or notice the way he fidgeted with his fingers, or smoothed out his clothing like he was trying to at least appear presentable to someone who was literally in a hospital gown. There was no way he acknowledged those things. No way, no how.

“Just my luck, huh?” He chuckled softly, giving Tsumiki a warm smile.

_‘Just MY luck…’_ Hajime let out a barely audible whimper. Talking to Komaeda was the last thing he wanted to do, because he doubted he’d be able to swallow his pride long enough to apologize. But at the same time, he couldn’t not apologize to Komaeda. As strange as he acted, Komaeda was a person too, and he got hurt due to Hajime’s words. Guilt was eating him from the inside the longer Komaeda was present, and he wasn’t sure how to deal with it, so he didn’t want to deal with it. He wanted to hide away forever.

“So, Hinata-san, Komaeda-san here wants to talk to you!” She then leaned to Hajime’s ear and whispered, “I’ve told him about how your strain of the despair disease affects you, but please try to be nice. He’s one of the few who haven’t managed to get sick, but he’s been a lot more unstable and I worry some of the stuff you’ll say while sick will set him off. Got it?” He gave her a slow nod, and she moved away from him. “So, do you think you’re ready to talk to him now?” Another slow nod followed her question, and she took this as her cue to walk out of the room. A heavy silence filled the air in an almost deafening way. Hajime opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the proper words, if there were even any. He decided that maybe it wasn’t best to just stare at Komaeda with his mouth open though, and picked a response from one of the many racing through his mind.

“What are _you_ doing here?” The words came out harsh and course and snide, like nails scratching down a chalkboard; it was the exact _opposite_ way he intended them to come out. Komaeda shrunk back a little more, and Hajime’s breath caught in his chest. He seriously hoped Komaeda had caught how his expression betrayed his words and then remember that he was like this only because of Monokuma’s dumb disease. _‘Please don’t think I’m doing this on purpose…’_

“I was just worried about you, Hinata-kun. I heard you got sick and wanted to come see if you were okay.” Relief would’ve come if Komaeda didn’t sound like such a _mess_. It was almost hard to discern his words due to how quiet he was, and his voice was meek and hoarse, like he’d been doing something to wear it down. Hajime knew Komaeda only spoke when spoken to, and it made his stomach churned as he drew conclusions. Accusations bubbled up in the back of his mind, spitting acidic remarks towards himself.

_‘You’re sick, hurting him over and over like this.’_  
_‘You don’t deserve him. He’d be much better off without you.’_  
_‘He cares so much about you and you’re so cruel to him. Why do you do it? Do you find pleasure in hurting him? You’re so depraved.’_

He swallowed to clear his mind before replying.  
“Why would you even care? We’re not close.” The words spilled from his mouth, absolutely laced with harmful intent, and it made Hajime’s heart practically stop. Tsumiki had told him his strain of the despair disease does ‘lower impulse control significantly’, but Hajime had no clue it’d be _this_ bad. Really, he figured he’d just be forced to tell outlandish lies, ones people could obviously see are false, rather than having it twist both his words and the truth behind him.

“Ah…. Well.. Um, h-how are you doing today Hinata-kun? I myself am… fine, but I’m worried about you.” Komaeda shifted on his feet, and it made his stomach drop.

“I’m fine, of course. I don’t see why it matters to you, though.”

“I… guess you’d know your health best!” There was an attempt to laugh, but even as ill as Hajime was, he could tell it was forced. The laugh drifted to a silence that stretched an uncomfortably long time. Mental fingers pointed at Hajime and he could feel self-blame well up in his unbound chest, which he was only acutely aware of. All Hajime could think of was how sorry he was, how badly he wanted to apologize, how much Komaeda mattered to him and how much he _really_ didn’t want to lose him. Dizzied, he rooted through his scrambled thoughts and strung together the first thing he could think of.

“If you want an apology, you’re not getting one.”

They both froze.

Time slowed to a snail’s pace, and every passing second felt like an eternity. Hajime could see all of Komaeda’s reactions click into place, puzzle pieces slotting together, and it was honestly a form of torture. Helpless, weak, and unable to tell the truth, it was a pitiful position to be in and he hated every second of it.

“I... “ Hajime could hear him swallow thick spit, “I see.” It was both a shot to the heart and a punch to the face, hearing him repeat the same words that had let him leave himself in this mess in the first place.

“I don’t know why you were expecting one in the first place. You act like I’d ever give some talentless nobody like you my sorries,” He snarled, and it, once again, obviously dealt a silent blow to Komaeda. It was painful to watch, but what could he do? Say sorry? When all he could speak were lies? No way in hell was he going to try that again, but maybe if he phrased his words a certain way, he could get it out to Komaeda that this wasn’t his doing. Maybe, just maybe…

“If you wanted me to leave you just could’ve said so.” Slowly, Komaeda turned on shaky legs and began the process of walking out of the room. It would’ve been best to leave their broken bond in the pieces it shattered into, but in an instant, Hajime’s arm shot to Komaeda’s sleeve, holding him in the strongest grip his ailment ridden body could muster. Given, it wasn’t strong, but it still was enough to stopped Komaeda in his tracks.

Hajime prayed by some miracle he’d be able to speak what he truly wanted to. _‘Please don’t leave… I think… I need you in my life… And I think… I love you.’_

But that wasn’t what came out of his mouth.

“Yeah, you go ahead and leave. See if I care. How many times do I have to stay it? I. Don’t. Care. About. You. In fact, I…. hate you. I hate you so much, and your presence is a burden to me. I almost want you to kill someone so I can see the look on your stupid face when you get executed.” Millions of things he couldn’t voice ran through his head, leaving him to only helplessly stare into Komaeda’s eyes and try not to start sobbing. Komaeda looked utterly lost for words, mouth slightly agape and disbelieving eyes searching his for some kind of sign it was just a ruse. Hajime closed his eyes tightly and prayed Komaeda would remember this was just due to the disease. But... it was hard for him to remember that himself, so was there really any chance Komaeda would? His eyes shut tighter. Maybe if he closed them hard enough, he’d wake up in his cabin, without the despair disease, or maybe by some crazy miracle, he’d wake up at home, far away from this hell that stripped him of life as he knew it. Maybe if he hoped hard enough, the hopes would come true.  
But reality was cruel, and it wasn’t a dream. Rather than escape, Hajime only got Komaeda gently shaking his hand from his sleeve. Even despite how horrible Hajme had been, Komaeda still handled him with the utmost care, as if he were the fragile one here. Momentary hope flooded Hajime as he began to think Komaeda had finally caught on, but when Hajime opened his eyes, he saw his expression was blank, yet solemn at the same time. A sad sigh left Komaeda, and he turned on his heel once more.

“I’m glad I got to know you while it lasted, Hinata-kun.” Komaeda didn’t even bother to turn to him before speaking his last words to him.

And he was gone.

And there was no one to blame but Hajime.

**Author's Note:**

> are you mad at me? my friends sure were when i gave it to them.  
> also hajime is trans, and thats not made clear enough but its there. by the way, ill end up writing another part but not right now because its christmas and im tired.
> 
> yell at me on tumblr at kaitostrial.tumblr.com


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